


Too, Too Solid Flesh

by thawrecka



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Body Horror, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-28
Updated: 2004-02-28
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thawrecka/pseuds/thawrecka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenny is hopelessly stuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too, Too Solid Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Jennyficathon.

Jenny is dead and has been for sometime now. She's somewhat used to it, in the way people get used to anything if given enough time to do so. She never thought that she would learn to accept it, in the beginning, but she has.

Death was painful but quick. The sharp break of her neck was loud inside her head and the pain flared out from the break like an explosion. It ripped through her senses.

She thought that that would be it, that death would be the end to feeling, and to the limitations of her body. She thought that she would go on to something special, be it good or bad, when death came to claim her. She was wrong.

Jenny has never left her body. She thinks that maybe she was supposed to, but somehow she got stuck. The why of it does not matter. The fact is that she is in this body and will be for the foreseeable future.

Sense didn't leave her with death, either. She can still see through dead eyes, no matter that they are sewn shut, and hear through dead ears, though what little there is to hear is muffled through her coffin and layers of rubble.

For Jenny death is a lot like life, only she can't do anything.

She could not do anything when Angelus picked up her limp, broken body and carried her from the high school. He was careful as he carried her, and amongst the confusion that accompanied her death was the fear over what he would do. It was clear to her that he had some nefarious purpose, some nasty trick in mind.

He strode confidently along the lonely streets, the lamp light illuminating their path. In the distance she could hear a dog barking, but no one came in Angelus' way, fortunately. He made his way quickly through the night and when she realised his destination she was gripped with fear and sadness that she could not express.

He made his way inside the empty flat and took her into the bathroom, diligently cleaning her body. He was thorough and thoughtful and her skin felt wrong wherever he touched it. He was a dark, calculating intrusion into the pale, cosy bathroom and his presence seemed to block out the light. Soon she was scrubbed dry and her outfit dragged back into place.

He took her, then, up the stairs, and dumped her body unceremoniously on the bed. He regarded her as if she were an unshapen lump of clay, before turning and retreating downstairs.

She waited to discover what he would do. She could hear the odd sound from downstairs as he moved about, but mostly he was silent like a hunter in the dark.

When he returned to the bedroom and began to arrange things she wanted to scream at him not to do this, but of course she could not.

The props placed, the music started, he returned to finish the picture; artfully arrange her limbs. By this time her body had begun to stiffen and she felt the overwhelming pain as he wrenched things into place. Once she was shaped to his satisfaction he left, whistling an unpleasant tune and nearly dancing out of the room.

Later, when she heard footsteps approaching and realised Rupert had come home she wanted to yell at him to stay out and not see this, but she had no voice with which to yell.

Nor could she do anything when the medical examiner began the quick cursory autopsy, slicing her open and stitching her back together in the cool of the hospital.

She was silent as the funeral director fussed over her body. He pattered about, humming a strange tune as he added fake colour to her cheeks. When he leant close to her corpse for finer detail she saw his face was pockmarked and splotchy. His breath smelt like a science classroom.

Her eyes remained stubbornly open, as dead eyes are want to do. They had to sew them shut and she felt every prick of the needle.

She felt their hands as they dressed her in her finest and as they put her in her box. She heard their words and the dump of dirt as they put her into the earth.

She feels every moment of her body's decay, hears the strange noises of her disintegrating body.

She has long since stopped wanting to scream out. She does not wait. She does not want. Even now, as her coffin is slowly crushed under the rubble of this forgotten town, she does not hold out hope of heaven.


End file.
